Chapter 31
The office floor is silent. I leaned back in the swivel chair, pen spinning between my fingers as I stared at the documents. Tonight I should be celebrating our wedding anniversary with Sloane. Maybe that's for the best—I won't give myself false hope when my time is limited.
"What will you feel if you find out I'm dying, Sol?" I muttered to the empty room and let out a bitter laugh. "Maybe if I die, you'll get the revenge you want. You won't have to get your hands dirty." I stopped the pen on the edge of the desk.
Of course, the pen rolled off. "Oh shit." I lunged for it, too late. It clattered to the floor. I glanced at my watch—past ten. Two hours until the anniversary ends. I reached for the pen and the room tilted.
A white-hot pain shot through my chest. My vision doubled. I stumbled and my forehead slammed into the desk corner. Blood wets my fingers when I touch my face. "Damn it," I gasped, folding over as the pain spiked under my ribs. Tears sting the corners of my eyes.
My hands shook as I fumbled for the pill bottle in my pocket. With trembling fingers, I dump two tablets into my palm and swallow them dry. "Please... stop," I whispered, eyes closed, trying to breathe through the ache. Nothing eases. The pain keeps coming.
I stayed doubled over on the floor, forehead pressed to the tile, both hands clutching my chest. My head throbbed so loudly it felt like someone was hammering inside my skull; my ribs felt crushed with every breath.
"Phone... my phone," I muttered, breath ragged. I tried to push myself up and reached across the desk, but I knocked the phone; it skidded to the floor. I groaned and crawled after it, every movement a small war.
Lying on my side, I fumbled the screen awake and dialed my doctor. My breath rasped as the pressure in my chest worsened. The line rang once, twice, then someone answered.
"Doc," I gasped. "Doc, please—send help." I let the phone fall beside me and pressed my hands harder to my sternum. "It hurts so much. Please make it stop." My voice broke. "Please... help."
I kept pleading until my vision doubled and the room blurred. I didn't know if it was the pills finally taking effect or the pain dragging me under. Time folded; the world narrowed to a dark slip. I lost track of how long I was out.
A voice cut through the dark and made me wince.
"Ro! Aurora!"
Who—? My eyes opened to mottled light. Pain flared across my forehead.
"Ro!" the voice repeated.
Adjusting my vision, I froze when I realized it wasn't my doctor leaning over me. It was my wife, Sloane. I swallowed and scrambled backward on my hands and knees, eyes wide.
"I'm fine. I-I was just... just trying to fool you," I tried to force a laugh, looking anywhere but at her. "Why are you here?"
Sloane's worried expression cracked into something colder. "If you're fine, don't be dramatic—don't call me like you actually needed me." She straightened and looked down at me as if trying to read a script she hadn't expected to receive.
I opened my mouth, but she cut me off, scoffing.
"What now, Ro? What is this theatre? You told me to attend the investor meeting, and then you called me out of the blue.
I came running here thinking something happened.
" She jabbed a finger at my chest. "Look at you—did you soak your clothes with water for effect?
And what's that blood on your forehead? Part of the props? "
My hand flew to my forehead. "I—"
"Do you know how worried I was when you called, crying? Do you have any idea?" She stepped closer and grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me up so our faces were level.
She swiped at the blood on my brow with a brisk motion. "Stop pretending. Wipe that fake blood—" Her voice trailed off as she blinked and stared at her fingers. She wiped my forehead again, more carefully, slower this time.
I shoved her hand away hard enough that her palm stung my cheek. "It wasn't fake," I said, my voice low.
Sloane went still; her eyes dropped to the smear of red on her fingers. "Ro...what the hell is going on?" she demanded, gripping my wrist. "Where did you get that wound?"
Heaving a sigh, I ran my fingers through my hair, glancing at her. "Stop overreacting, Sol. I'm fine," I said, pulling out my handkerchief to wipe the sweat from my brow.
Rubbing her temple, Sloane clicked her tongue, her gaze sharp.
"Ro, can you just stop being like this?"
"Like what?"
"Like this!" she groaned. "Are you really just messing with me, or do you actually want to end up in the hospital? Because I heard you crying, saying it hurts. What hurts? That wound? Where did you even get that?"
I clenched my fists and shut my eyes, then opened them, staring at Sloane.
I didn't know how to hold back. I swallowed hard and let out a bitter chuckle.
"Sorry... I just hit my forehead on the corner of my desk.
I didn't know you'd be the one I called—I thought it was my doctor. I didn't mean to disturb your work."
"You're not disturbing me," Sloane muttered, sighing as she met my gaze. "If you call me, you know I'll drop everything for you."
I wanted to tell her I didn't need that—but I stopped myself. Somehow, her words made me think she would still stay by my side. And no matter how much I tried to deny it, I wanted her to choose me while I still could.
"Sol," I cleared my throat, my voice breaking slightly as I said her name.
"Hmm?"
I couldn't... I couldn't step back. I couldn't let her be with someone else. Not her. Not now.
"Ro, what is it?"
I strode toward her, cupping her face as I leaned in, kissing her. A gasp escaped her lips, and I pulled her closer, claiming her mouth. I shut my eyes, letting my tears fall freely as I pressed into her.
She responded, wrapping her arms around my neck.
"I'm sorry," I whispered as we parted slightly, resting my forehead against hers.
"I didn't know... I didn't know I left you pregnant.
I didn't know you had a miscarriage. I'm so sorry," I sniffled, hitching my breath.
"I'll let you take your revenge on me, but please. .. please, just stay with me."
I've always been selfish. And I can't bear the thought of seeing her with someone else. If this is the last time I get to be selfish, then so be it.
Sloane sighed, reaching up to cup my face, gently wiping away my tears. "There's something I want you to know," she murmured. "Will you come home with me tonight?"
I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek. "Yes," I whispered, my voice hoarse.
?·???°???°???·?
Peering through the windshield, I raised a brow as Sloane pulled up in front of an unfamiliar house. She glanced at me, shrugged, and unbuckled her seatbelt. I followed her lead.
Outside, she slipped her hand into mine, guiding me toward the veranda. "Whose house is this?" I asked, scanning the neat surroundings.
"Millie's," she said, pressing the doorbell.
I hovered just behind her, still trying to take everything in. "I didn't know she lived somewhere like this. It looks... nice."
Sloane chuckled, throwing me a look over her shoulder. "Right. Millie's my sister-in-law. She's married to my younger brother."
I blinked, tilting my head. "Really?"
She nodded, pressing the doorbell again. A voice stirred from inside before the door finally swung open. Without hesitation, Sloane pulled me in.
"Sis, good thing you're here." A man beamed at Sloane, barely acknowledging me. "Your daughter's been throwing tantrums all afternoon."
"Mommy! I am not!" A girl's voice rang out as she rushed forward. "Uncle's teasing me!" The tween clung to Sloane's waist with practiced ease.
My brows knitted together. I stared at the girl, then at Sloane, then at the man. "Mommy? Daughter?" The words tumbled from me before I could stop them.
The three of them froze, turning toward me.
Sloane's brother's eyes go wide. He slapped a hand over his mouth. "Oh! I didn't know you'd bring your wife today, sis—ow!" He doubled over as Sloane's fist connected with his side.
"Shut up," she hissed, then looked straight at me.
"What's going on...?" I blinked, struggling to process the scene in front of me. My head tilted as my eyes landed on the girl— the same girl Sloane had been playing with back at her funding anniversary.
"Dione," Sloane patted the girl's head, her gaze softening. "Go on, greet your other mother."
My head jerked forward, finger pointing at myself. "Other mother?!" I hissed, blinking hard at her.
Crossing her arms, Sloane rolled her eyes. "What? You got me pregnant more than a decade ago, Aurora. And this kid right here is the proof."
"What...?" The word fell out of me in a broken whisper. "But... you told me you had a miscarriage."
Sloane opened her mouth, but the girl spoke first. "Mommy told me I had a twin brother, but he died from a miscarriage. That's why she only has me."
My eyes locked on the girl—Dione. Her eyes, her skin tone, her build... it's like looking at a carbon copy of myself. My throat tightened around a lump as my chest pounded so loud it drowned the room.
Sloane's voice cuts through.
"Didn't I tell you it was twins? Fraternal.
The boy didn't survive the stress I went through, hence the miscarriage.
But my Dione here"—she rested her arm around the girl's shoulder, then playfully hooked it around her neck—"is a fighter.
She just turned twelve. I figured it was time you knew you have an heir. "
My brain felt like it's running on dial-up, every thought buffering too slowly. Dione and I just stared at each other. I blinked again and again, as if repetition could force my mind to process what's happening.
"Sis, I think your wife's having a short circuit in her brain," Sloane's brother teased, earning another sharp smack from her.
"Just shut up, will you? And... is Dione's stuff packed already?" Sloane shot back, turning to him. Then she crouched and nudged the girl gently toward me. "Dione, go talk to your mother. I'll get your things."
And just like that, they leave us—me and this girl—alone, eyes locked on one another. I clear my throat and crouch down so we're level. Dione tilts her head, studying me.
"Mommy told me you're a fashion designer," she said, swiping through her tablet before turning the screen toward me. "I'm trying to design my own clothes too!" Her voice lifted proudly.
I looked down at the screen, breath catching at the sketches. "You made these?" I asked, pointing to one design.
She nodded, her smile blooming brighter as her small hand slipped into mine. "Come on, let's sit on the couch," she urged, tugging me along with excited little hops.
We sat side by side. She scooted close, scrolling through her work—sketch after sketch, some even turned into finished clothes.
"Mommy told me I got your talent for fashion," she giggled, swiping to another app.
"She said if I want to be a designer, I can be one when I grow up.
She lets me watch tutorials online and even enrolled me in a fashion school for kids.
" Her words tumbled out, proud and innocent.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt. "I'm sorry," I whispered. She looked up at me, eyes wide. I tried to smile, though it trembled. "I didn't know your mommy Sloane, was pregnant when I left her."
Dione tilted her head, humming before giving me the gentlest smile.
She shook her head, as if she'd already made peace with it.
"Mommy told me I shouldn't be mad at you.
She said it was her decision not to tell you she was pregnant.
That when the time came, she'd tell you the truth.
She told me I just need to wait—and focus on my studies. "
Shifting in her seat, she turned to face me completely, crossing her legs on the couch as she leaned forward. "Mommy keeps saying I look just like you. I guess she's right," she giggled.
My chest tightened, happiness and nervousness crashing inside me.
She tugged at the chain around her neck. "Look at this. Mommy gave it to me. She said it was your gift to her on your fourth anniversary." She unlatched the pendant, revealing a tiny, faded picture—me, back in my university days.
A laugh slipped out, shaky and blurred by tears. "I still have mine." I pulled out my own necklace, opened it, and showed her the picture of her mother—Sloane, caught in her youth, smiling.
Her shriek filled the room, bright and innocent.
Then she stopped, her grin faltering as her eyes searched mine.
"Well... I don't know what you want me to call you.
But... Mommy told me that if you ever asked about a DNA test, I should show you the proof. Do you want to see it?"
I caught her small hand in mine, shaking my head gently. "You don't need to show me anything." My smile trembled, but I forced it steady. I leaned forward, swallowing against the ache in my throat. "What do you want to call me?"
She beamed, practically bouncing in her seat. "How about you choose? Mama? Dada? Pops?" Her giggle rang like a spark of sunlight, pure and eager.
I tilted my head, ruffling her hair, my lips tugging into a smile despite everything breaking inside me. "Let's go with Pops."
"Alright!" She shot me a thumbs-up. "Pops Aurie it is!"
I couldn't help but scoff softly, shaking my head as I looked at her. She might look like me, but her fire—that unshakable spirit—was all Sloane's.
"Dione, right?" I whispered, needing to say her name aloud, to claim her in my own way.
She nodded earnestly, and my throat tightened around a lump I could barely swallow. "Since we haven't seen each other for more than ten years, would you mind if I asked for a hug?"
Dione hesitated only a moment before setting her tablet aside.
Then she threw herself at me, her small arms locking around my neck.
I smiled, holding her close, stroking her back with gentle circles as I shut my eyes, struggling to contain the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.
She only pulled me tighter, giggling as she whispered that she'd been waiting for this moment—to finally meet me.
When I opened my eyes, Sloane was there. She stood on the first step of the staircase, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, watching us. Her expression was unreadable, a flicker of something I couldn't name.
I looked at her, forcing a smile through the ache in my chest, and mouthed, thank you.
Her lips curved faintly, the smallest smile, and she gave a single nod—though she didn't move from where she stood.